


As The Night Changes

by Minniemax08



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 17:07:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15490641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minniemax08/pseuds/Minniemax08
Summary: 2014 repost - originally on One Direction FanfictionBeing revived





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 2014 repost - originally on One Direction Fanfiction  
> Being revived

There was something about the smell of vomit that made you feel gross. Sure, being in contact with it had the same effect, but the scent alone made Amy want to scrub her skin raw with a wire brush. It was on her shoes, and the pungent perpetrator was passed out on the floor in front of her. A small voice in her head wanted to ask him if he was alright and attempt to rouse him from his drunken stupor, but the vast of majority of her _special_ voices were telling her to kick off her shoes and throw them at his head. Okay, maybe it was a childish urge, but he deserved it.

The party had gone from bad to worse pretty quickly, it was sure to be the major topic of gossip at school tomorrow due to a violent fight and multiple embarrassing drunken acts, one girl even ate a balloon. Amy slipped out of her shoes and knelt down on the pavement. She reached out her hand to shake his shoulder gently. He didn’t wake up. She left. There was no point staying, and there was no point taking her shoes either. They were ruined. So were her tights, so she slipped them off as well and left them tangled in a bush.

There was something freeing about walking down a deserted highway at night, and just like that girl in **Stick It** she felt the need to break into a run, let her hair fly behind her and just be. A laugh bubbled up her throat as her feet began to hit the tarmac at a faster pace. The wind tickled her skin and she felt as if she was one step away from flying. Amy was a bush girl at heart. She was used to ultimate freedom and dirt and stones underfoot. Moving to Suburbia nearly broke her, but she had begun to acclimatize to her new surroundings, albeit it very slowly. It was almost as if she could feel the Earth pulsing underneath the highway, feel how it felt, truly alive. Gradually she began to slow, home was pretty far away and while she didn’t doubt she could run the entire way her feet had begun to hurt. It was a saddening reminder that she’d been deprived of the ground she loved for so long that her feet had lost some of their toughness.

Amy’s Father had been a good man, a little too easy going some times and too strict at other’s, but he tried his best, just as all parents do. He had taught her how to gut a fish and hunt for skinks in the bush. He’d taught her that wild things can be tamed, but to confine what was once free is cruel. He showed her that while fighting didn’t solve everything, sometimes it’s just good to throw a punch. But the most important lesson of all that he had taught her was that just because someone is family that doesn’t mean you have to love them. Her brother had always been a little violent, a little lacking in empathy. He wasn’t nice. He wasn’t like her Father. He wasn’t what a brother should have been. It seemed almost ironic that a Father so loving and a brother so lacking should die together. But she supposed both Heaven and Hell had to fill their quota somehow, God forbid the balance be unequal. She didn’t believe in religion, but sometimes, like now, while she was stuck in her thoughts, it seemed like such a beautiful idea. That perhaps Damien and her Dad were getting what they deserved, one an afterlife of happiness, and the other, eternal damnation. She felt the car was behind her and stepped over to the side of the road without glancing over her shoulder. The light behind her made her shadow look long, her body tall and thin in the darkness. She watched each careful movement it made, watched it swing to her left and eventually fade away as the light dissipated. She never looked up to see the car pull over to the side. She never heard the sound of his feet, she never uttered a sound as she began to fall to the ground, and as she was rolled over, all she did was curse. His jacket smelt like cigarettes, and his eyes were covered by shadows. But he had nice teeth, she thought. Very nice teeth.

Liam didn’t bother to look at the tiny body positioned next to him. He didn’t glance at her soft pink lips, or play with the tips of her auburn hair. He didn’t run his hands up her pale thighs. He just checked her pulse and sat back for the ride. Zayn sat in the back of the van opposite him. Neither touched her any more than they had to. Harry drove. Louis sat in the passenger seat. It was agreed that perhaps Niall shouldn’t come along less he do something overly emotional or continuously voice his doubts about the whole operation. Amy’s hands were bleeding from where she’d hit the pavement. Zayn didn’t catch her in time. Besides the partial injuries on her part, everything had gone smoothly. She was alive. She was in the van. They were driving home, and that, as they say, was that.

Amy liked to dream. There was something truly fascinating about the lack of boundaries the imagination had. In her mind pillows could hug you, and trees grew beds, ducks made the best pets and ravens were valiant warriors that protected the land from blight. In her mind feather boas were incredibly ridiculous snakes that liked to curl up on your head. It was a pretty place, it was her place, and the saddest part was that it was only dreamt of if she was in serious distress. Sort of like an internal panic room, and for now at least, she didn’t seem to be coming out.


	2. Chapter 2

Liam carried her inside. Her head lolled to the side. A small whimper escaped her lips. For the first time since he saw her picture his eyes flickered to her face. Freckles dusted the bridge of her nose and the top of her cheek bones, despite her fiery hair she looked so innocent. Liam looked away.

Zayn watched as the girl was placed on the bed. He watched as Liam stepped out of the room, and Harry and Louis began to slip off her dress, and he resisted the urge to laugh when her eyes opened and she started to scratch. She looked like a little ginger kitten. But what he didn’t seem to understand was that this kitten was fucking pissed.

Amy laughed as she hung upside down from the vine bars under the bed. The tree’s trunk grew beside her, its branches splitting leaving a gap wide enough for a mossy mattress to grow, thin vines crisscrossing between the sections. She smiled as the warm wisps of wind began to play with her hair, twisting and flicking the red tendrils, her arms hanging and swaying along with it.

Just like the van, just like her Father’s car, just like everything important, she didn’t hear it. Didn’t hear as the vine began to break, didn’t hear her own scream as she began to fall. She felt cold and she felt hands on her body, two things she hated with a passion. So she did what she always did when people thought they had the right to touch her, she touched them back, violently. She knew her fingers drew blood because she could feel as her victim’s skin gave way under her nails. Her knee collided with one of the boy’s stomachs. She jumped off the bed and ran straight for the door, straight into a short blonde haired boy, before tumbling to the floor, her legs tangling with his as they fell. Amy tried to scramble away but strong arms wrapped around her body and yanked her back. She wanted to scream but she didn’t know if she could make any sound. So instead she sunk her teeth into one of the arms holding her still. She expected some sort of reaction, but instead lips pressed gently against her neck and almost unwillingly she felt her body begin to relax.

The blonde haired boy slowly got to his feet and at the sudden motion her body tensed again, her jaw clamping tighter around the stranger’s arm. His eyes softened as he watched her reaction. He took a step forward and vibrations began to make their way up her throat. To everyone in the room it sounded much like a kitten’s growl. The lips kissed her behind jaw. Her body felt rigid. Zayn wanted to relax his hold, worried that he’d damage her small frame, but he knew the minute he did she’d be off. She had a little more spunk than he’d given her credit for.

Harry was pissed. He’d gotten blood on his favourite shirt and he’d just straightened from being doubled over in pain. He didn’t know why he should have to cop the brunt of the damage whereas Louis came out relatively unscathed, except for a thin scratch on his cheek. But something stopped him from punching her when he had the chance. Something behind the anger, something more like utter terror. He felt queasy, and as much as he wanted to blame it on the blow to the stomach, he knew it was because it was his fault that she was so scared. Her expression had seemed so lost, so broken when she’d realised her dress was gone, but he had to admire how quickly she’d gone from scared to ferocious. Like a little warrior. Even now she was still inflicting any damage she could, and that was certainly admirable.

Amy could taste blood, the coppery flavour filling her mouth. She had the resist the urge to retch. The blonde boy waved his hand to get Amy’s attention. She glared. He pressed his index finger and thumb together to make a circle and held the other fingers up, facing the hand towards himself he slowly raised it. He then brought his hand to his chest and changed it to look more like he was holding an imaginary tennis ball. He tapped the fingertips against the centre of his chest. The message was simple. _Don’t be afraid._ But the problem was that she was afraid. Amy was fucking terrified.


	3. Chapter 3

It was funny to grow up in a world without sound. To never be able to hear your own Father’s voice. Never listen to music. In some ways it was always incredibly peaceful but it did leave Amy at a distinct disadvantage. She was always terrified that something might happen to her hands, because they were her voice, they were her words. She felt embarrassed to speak, embarrassed that someone might hear her voice and immediately give her that look. You know, the ‘oh, you’re deaf, you poor thing’ look. Like somehow she was a barely functioning part of society simply because she lacked a sense that people didn’t even utilise properly. Instead she felt vibrations and waved her hands about. How useless? How simple? There was nothing worse than a person attempting to communicate in sign language but just doing over exaggerated hand gestures instead, the lip movement, that was fine, because that at least resembled English, but the hand gestures just confused her. She was so used to looking for the words in the hands that she would read hands even when the owner of said hands didn’t know Aus-Lan. Imagine everyone talking in complete gibberish for your entire life and you may be able to understand how she felt.

Amy was Australian born. She moved to America soon after what everyone liked to refer to as ‘the incident’ to live with her Mother. Sure, she’d learnt American Sign Language too, but she found herself slipping into Aus-Lan every now and again. Seeing the blonde haired boy speak to her, because that’s what he was doing, _speaking_ to her in his messed up Aus-Lan was actually kind of comforting. For a very miniscule amount of time. Because all she could think about after that was _how did they know who she was?_ They had to have known. At least done some basic research. Her hands were trapped by the darker boy’s arm. She was trapped. Amy didn’t want to be trapped. She felt lips moving against her neck and small vibrations rippling across her sensitive skin. He was speaking. The blonde haired boy looked up and nodded. Rather than using the full gestures he began to spell each word, his eyes locking with the boy holding her still. He interlocked his fingers and then touched the tip of his left index finger with his right. His hands began to move at a faster pace as she watched him spell out his first sentence. _We are not going to hurt you._ She had to give him credit, he knew his alphabet. _If you stop biting the man holding you, he will let you go. Please don’t run. Please._ His face looked so desperate. Her jaw began to relax, clicking softly as she had to open it wider to let go of the boy’s arm. Amy watched as his arms fell from her body. Cautiously she stepped away from him and turned so her back was facing the wall, it was easier to see all of them that way.

The curly haired boy was clutching his arm and glaring at her. The boy with the scratch on his face was smiling in a way that she assumed was meant to be comforting. At this point in time, it really wasn’t. The darker skinned boy didn’t even seem to notice the damage she’d inflicted on his arm, and as for the blonde haired boy, well, despite the fact he was the nicest so far, she trusted him the least. Her fingers interlocked and then she pressed her palms together, her fingers pointing in opposite directions. She then pointed to her ring finger with her right index finger. The blonde haired boy watched intently as she asked her first question. _Who are you?_ He simply said _watch_. And she did. Each boy took turns signing their name. First blondie who turned out to be called Niall. It suited him she thought. Then Louis, Zayn, and a rather reluctant Harry. He accidently signed it _Horry_ and she couldn’t help the giggles that made their way up her throat. She peered to her right and saw Niall’s smile as well.

“What?” Zayn’s mouth twitched.

“What did I do?” Amy continued to laugh as she watched his lips form those words. Niall grinned and told Harry what he’d done. His face looked angry, but his cheeks showed his embarrassment.

“Oh.” Amy smiled and felt the urge to walk over to him and pat his shoulder comfortingly, that’s when she started to run. Yet again. Because beginning to feel calm around your captors is never right. And rather than finding the front door she found a room instead. A room that belonged to the other boy she hadn’t met.


	4. Chapter 4

Liam pulled his arm back, his fingers clasps around the rounded piece of metal. His arm jerked forward and the dart was released. It was his sixth bullseye. There was a reason no one ever played darts with Liam, he never missed. Even when he was drunk. He’d purposely hung the dartboard in front of the window, to prove that he’d never miss, never damage the glass. Sometimes he felt the urge to throw the dart straight through the window, watch to see if the glass cracked leaving thin lines like a spider weaving it’s web or if it would shatter and the dartboard would fall from its hook onto the bed below. But he never did.  He didn’t bother to turn around figuring it was probably Zayn or someone else he didn’t feel like talking to. But then he heard the gasp. The seventh dart left his grip, and for once, he hit the window frame instead.

Amy felt the paper crinkle underfoot as she backed away from the door. Glancing down she saw that paper, pens, and clothing were the only things that covered the surface of the floor. It wasn’t hard to figure out that she was in a bedroom. She crouched down and picked up one of the pieces of paper, and at the top in a messy scrawl was a date and a small paragraph:

_June 23 rd, 2015._

_She didn’t notice the van. She normally notices do much, but lately her mind has been elsewhere. I can still see that faint bruise on her cheek, and if I didn’t know that the guy who gave it to her was in a lot worse shape than she was I would have killed him myself. It wasn’t ri-_

The paper was yanked out of her hand. Her hands were shaking, her eyes beginning to water as the man grabbed her shoulders and turned her around, pushing her up against the bedroom door. Her head thudded against the wood as he shook her. She tried to raise her hands to say _I’m sorry_ but there wasn’t enough room between them. She could tell he was yelling, see the anger in his face. _He was watching her_ , a tear made its way down her cheek. He had to have been. She remembered the day that boy had thrown her into a locker, she remembered picking herself up off the floor and then proceeding to break his nose, and she remembered running home after the teacher pulled her off him. That was the reason for her second suspension.

Liam tried to calm himself down, he was the one that protested against taking her in the first place and now he could tell he was the one that scared her the most. Slowly he began to back away, holding his hands up to show her he wasn’t going to touch her again. It wasn’t hard to tell what she was thinking, he knew what was written on that paper, he knew what was on every piece of paper, hell, he’d written it all. Amy felt so exposed, and not just because she was standing in a stranger’s room in her underwear, but because for God knows how long, her privacy had been invaded. Her eyes spied other pieces of paper and she didn’t even want to know what was written on those. Thinking about it made her feel sick to her stomach.

 _No, don’t hug yourself. Please don’t._ Liam inwardly groaned, scrubbing his hand across his jaw. She only did that when she incredibly distressed. What really broke him was that it was his fault. He turned and began to rummage about in his drawers finally finding a shirt that looked like it might cover her completely he turned back, the shirt in his hands. The door was open, and Amy was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

Amy didn’t know where to go. All she knew was that she had to get out somehow. It was a good thought, but one that didn’t actually have a high likelihood of becoming an eventuality. Her footsteps were light as she turned left and ran. Amy may have not been able to hear them, but she knew how much pressure was needed on the ground to create a sound. She’d learnt that through many years of trial and error as she attempted to sneak out of her Father’s house. The hallway was long with a large glass door at the end that led to a balcony. Much to her surprise, the door was unlocked. She yanked it to the side and stepped out onto the wooden decking. It wasn’t until a gust of wind blew past her that she was reminded of her current state of undress. Looking over the edge of the railing Amy guessed it was about a three metre drop. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and climbed over the railing.

Liam was frozen. He hadn’t heard her leave. He should have heard her. He was torn between chasing her, or just letting her slip away. But the thought of one of the other boys finding her, especially Harry, had him worried. Slowly he stepped through his doorway and turned just in time to see a mass of red hair disappear over the edge of the balcony. He didn’t run until the screaming started.

Louis had Harry pinned to the floor. Blood dripped onto Harry’s cheek from the split in Louis’s lip. A snarling sound made its way up his throat as Louis pressed down harder on his wind pipe. They’d been in this position many times, whenever Harry lost his temper, one of the boys had to keep him down. Sometimes there was collateral damage, sometimes there wasn’t. Niall knelt on the ground beside the two boys. He didn’t say anything, because sometimes it was just best to stay quiet.

Zayn saw her land, her body dipping down before rising into a crouch. Her muscles clenched as they took the impact. She reminded him a lot of a cat, and he had no doubt that if she had a tail it would be flicking. She stood up and began to run. Or at least she tried to, her foot gave way two steps in. He heard the quiet yelp as she fell. Slowly he walked towards her. Zayn stood behind her, and as if she could sense it, she swivelled on her uninjured foot. It wasn’t until he grabbed her that she started to scream. Amy kicked forward violently, her damaged foot coming into contact with his shin. The painful impact only furthered to increase her rage. It was a rage born from previous experiences of helplessness. A feeling that, after all she’d been through, she felt she didn’t deserve. Zayn grunted as her arm managed to squeeze its way out of his grip and a tiny fist made contact with the side of his head. Somehow, she had succeeded in wriggling out of his grip and falling to the ground again. As he dived towards Amy she rolled. Her shoulder banging into the glass door that sat below the balcony. Almost immediately she began to move away, only to find Zayn crouching in front of her. With her back now pressed against the glass, it didn’t take her long to realise she was trapped. His mouth twitched, and despite the blood that trickled from his temple, she could have almost sworn he was enjoying this. And, if only to see the look on his face, Amy spoke with all the confidence she could muster.

“Sadistic bastard.”

Just before the glass door opened behind her and she fell backwards, she saw the beginnings of a laugh.

 

 


End file.
